Happiness is...

... a six year who FINALLY got to wear her long-sleeved school shirts. (Yes, folks, choref has officially arrived, judging by the number of Israelis in puffy winter coats and sweaters. I did not check the weather on Thursday and sent Yaakov to gan in shorts and a t-shirt, on what turned out to be a chilly, rainy day. Of course, by the afternoon, the sun was out and it was warm again, but still, I felt like a bad mother. So today, pants and long-sleeved shirts. Ariella was so excited last night she had trouble falling asleep.)

... cold and rainy and windy weather. Seriously. I was sooooo tired of hot and sweaty.

... a three year old who has his very own bendable Buzz and Woody dolls. (I've been trying to sneak up on them in an attempt to catch them talking and walking around and stuff, but damn, those toys are GOOD. They're always right where I left them. One day, one day.) Also, I sometimes slip up and call them Wuzz and Boody or Wooz and Buddy.

... Take Out Thursday (for the grown-ups; usually falafel or shwarma, last night we went for Chinese.)

... the Stand On Mommy Then Jump Onto the Couch Game. In case you need more specific directions: Mommy lies on the couch, Yaakov stands on Mommy, spreads his arms, counts to ten, then jumps off onto the couch. Ariella convulses with laughter, and despite the pain and bruising, Mommy laughs also. He is pretty cute.

... popcorn. I just really like popcorn.

... the way the house looks right before Shabbos starts.

... Ariella's face when she received a sticker for good davening.

... Yaakov when he realized it was Chocolate Sandwich Friday.

(We will not go into "unhappiness is... ," such as the way the house looks by the time Shabbos ends, or trying to retrieve bank statements from your bank's website and accidentally spending twenty shekel on a report you didn't want that has information you don't need and when you call the bank in an attempt to cancel the transaction the local branch tells you to call the main number and the main office, of course, tells you you need to speak to the local branch. Bye, bye, twenty shekel. But like I said, we are being happy and positive today.)

Shabbat Shalom!

Hail the Conquering Hero

Well, only a few days left to vote in our latest poll, and so far - sorry, Momz and Baila - Chutes & Ladders is winning as Worst Children's Game Ever. If you haven't cast YOUR vote yet, it's not too late!
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In aliyahbyaccident mazel tov news, a huge DOUBLE mazel tov goes out to Loyal Reader Shoshana, (Motto: "3 Under 3!") (Little boys, that is.) Well, Shoshana, as you know, I am somewhat of an expert on twin boys, having twin nephews myself, and I can tell you, that by the time they get to 25, it gets much easier. B'hatzlachah!
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So our Intrepid Traveler has returned. Donny left Seattle early Sunday morning, and a mere 30 hours later, landed in Tel Aviv. Sans luggage, however. They do claim they know where his luggage is, and have promised to deliver it this morning. The sooner the better, because in addition to Donny having no pants left, (he looked quite fetching in my denim skirt this morning) the luggage is carrying some precious cargo: Woody, Buzz, and a Dora Leapster game. For the airline's sake, they better deliver quickly.

In children news, Ariella has started to do her own ponytail. At first I tried to convince her otherwise, but she was just so darn determined to do it that I let the independence win out. At first I thought it looked like her hair got caught in a KitchenAid; now I think it's more like she did her pony and then carefully applied an immersion blender. It's controlled chaos. Anyway, she is quite proud of herself, and the truth is, now that she does her own hair, she is nearly Mommy-free in the mornings. Which frees me up to chase Yaakov around the apartment while wielding a bowl of cereal and a pair of shorts, hoping each ends up in the right place.

New Poll

I have deputized myself as the new Mistress of Polls. Following the comments for "Game Time," I have put up a new poll to decide once and for all which is truly the absolute worst children's game of all time. To add your voice to the conversation, click on the comments section below.

Game Time

Full Disclosure: I don't know how to play chess. I'm not even sure which pieces are which. I think the little tiny guys are pawns and the horse is a knight, but after that, it's all bishops to me. I have tried to learn - Donny tried to teach me, I took a workshop once at SAR, but all for naught. Give me Checkers any day - much simpler, you jump in one direction, you get to the other end, you win. Or even better, one of my all-time favorites, Taboo or Scattergories.

Donny has had more luck in teaching Ariella how to play and she occasionally asks me to play with her, at which point I hit upon the fantastic idea of coloring together! Yaakov has witnessed the chess playing, and today he decided to play with me.

Y: I want to be the blacks, Mommy. I do not love the whites.

M: Okay Yaakov.

[Yaakov lines up his pieces, and corrects my formation. I actually think he may have been right. We proceed to play. I move my piece randomly.]

Y: No, Mommy it goes here, and then I take your piece.

[The game continues like this for a while. Every time it's his turn, I seem to lose another one of my pieces. For revenge, I take a few of his. But his strategy is better and he's winning.]

Y: [holding his king, or maybe it's his queen. Which one has the cross on top?] R-O-A-R!!!!! See, I am scaring your pieces. [The rest of my pieces fearfully scamper off the board onto Yaakov's side.]

Y: [Looking askance at my white pieces, which are now in his possession, and at most of his black pieces, which I have.] But Mommy I don't love the whites!

M: But you won, Yaakov!

Y: Yeah, I won!

We follow up the game with a victory lap of Torat Hashem Temima. A rolled up bathroom rug substitutes for a Torah.

Later in the evening, Ariella, who is taking a games chug at school, decides we should play Mancala. We tie one, I win two. Then I try explaining Taboo, and finally we pull out Scrabble. Not the Junior version, the real live thing.
Ariella won.

Well, she had a little help. She was able to do her first turn all on her own, using the "d" from my "find" and writing "red." After that, though, it was pretty much, "Mommy, can you help me use my 'k'?" and "Mommy, I want to get one of the red blocks." So, good Mommy that I am, I helped her score some pretty awesome words, some of which she didn't even know the meaning of. Some of which may not even have been words at all. (Does "gack" count?) I finally called it quits, surrendering and Ariella won, 100-something to 100-something less.

Hmmm....kids win, Mommy loses....what a familiar theme.....

Princesses Galore

I would like to take this special opportunity to wish a HUGE, ALL-CAPS MAZEL TOV (YOU LIKE THAT, DADZ?) to Risa "Commentor Extraordinaire" Levi (and her hubby and son) on the birth of a brand new bouncing baby boy! (Actually, make sure NOT to bounce him. They'll probably have you watch a video about that before you leave the hospital.) The entire staff of aliyahbyaccident and all your fellow Loyal Readers wish you lots of blove (that's blog love) and hope that you will raise him to Torah, chuppah, ma'asim tovim, and Loyal Readership.

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It seems the results of our informal poll - include a last-minute mail in vote - were unanimous. Eat the pits, people. And, in good news, the heat wave is supposed to break tomorrow! Ya-hooo!

Tonight, Ariella is at a birthday party. I got a phone call from a friend's mom, making sure Ariella was going because her daughter was nervous about the party. These friends are olim chadashim - even chadasher than we are, as they moved this summer - and her daughter is, obviously, not so comfortable with the Hebrew yet. The mom said, "I think I may go and stay with her, because she's really shy and apprehensive about it." I responded, "Do what you must, but be forewarned: Israeli birthday parties are like shwarma. Accept that it's good and don't ask what went into it."

And so I give you: Things I've learned from a year's worth of birthday parties:

1. Israeli moms are part of a secret conspiracy to turn little Israeli girls into a formidable Princess Army. At each party, Ariella creates another piece of princess paraphanalia. A sash at one, a tiara at another, a sceptor at a third. (She's not home yet, but I can only assume that she'll be bringing a life-size throne. Or a prince.) Watch out, world. The Princesses are COMING! And they will show NO MERCY!

2. When I drop Ariella off at the inevitable small Israeli apartment that will soon host at least 20 of the girl's classmates, friends, siblings, cousins, and neighbors, the birthday girl is decked out in a beautiful dress, with various hoojies decorating her hair. The girls are giggling with each other. The room is decorated in lots of pink. Pristine art supplies line the table. Tonight, there was even a professional princess-for-hire at the party!

3. When I pick Ariella up, there is glitter glue smeared on the walls. Glitter crunches underfoot as you walk in. Glitter pieces are stuck in the girls' hair, and the girls are either running around in sugar-induced euphoria, or sitting down and staring at the floor in a sugar-withdrawal stupor. Empty pizza boxes litter the floor. The birthday girl's little sister is in tears, and the birthday girl herself is nowhere to be found.

4. Ariella proudly shows me the newest addition to her princess collection, and the glittery makeup adorning her face. "Isn't it pretty, Mommy?"

5. We are handed a piece of cake with gooey frosting to take home. Usually, Yaakov scores a piece as well. This way, they are both covered with pink ooze and chocolate crumbs upon our arrival at the homestead.

Tonight, our intrepid mom actually texted me from the party and said, "Um, I think this bowl of high-fructose corn syrup IS our children's dinner." And then later: "There was a lot of princessy stuff going on. My daughter didn't want her face covered in makeup!"

Sigh. I did try to warn her. Hopefully next time she will be able to send her daughter off to the great princess-y beyond, pick her up two hours later, and remain blissfully unaware of what transpired in between. What happens at princess parties, stays at princess parties.

I'm Moving

That's it. I've had it. I could put up with the intense heat in the summer, because, as Morah T will tell you, "It's Israel. It's the summer. Get used to it." (Although she would probably tell you in a nicer way.) But this heat wave in October has finished me. We're not talking about your Indian summer, where it reaches a pleasant 70s or even low 80s during the fall. Oh no. This is all-out, knock-down, drag-out, heat war. There are many words for "heat wave" in Hebrew - it's sort of like our Eskimo "snow" - and I'm not even sure what the difference is between a chamsin and a sharav and plain old heat wave. But it is undeniably, and unbearably, HOT!!!!!

On Shabbat, the kids and I walked to a different shul for a friend's baby naming. (Donny had to layn at our regular shul.) Even though the shul is about two blocks away, we were red-faced and sweating by the time we got there. And there was no air outside. None. It was like walking through a warm bath, but not in a pleasant, isn't-this-relaxing sort of way. In a I'm-drenched-and-I-can't-breathe sort of way. Today, there is a sort of breeze, but it doesn't help much. It just feels like 100 strangers breathing heavily into your face. Ewwww. I hear it's a balmy 45 degrees in Baltimore. And rainy. Sounds good right about now. Can you send some over here? First, as we all know, the Kinneret needs water because Yaakov keeps brushing his teeth. (Although his plan of filling up his washing cup with water and dumping it into the Kinneret is not without merit.) But also, we need winter! Enough of this already! There are important things to consider, such as Ariella's deep desire to wear her long-sleeve school shirts!

Okay, fine, maybe my solution is a bit drastic. Also, I'm afraid the five dozen shoko b'sakits I would have to pack with me to tide me over during my exile would burst during the trip and make my suitcase smell bad. So I'll just stay inside. In a t-shirt. With the a/c on full blast. Leaving only to make mad dashes to pick up the children, and then run back inside. If you see me on the street and I don't say hi, it's not personal - it's because it's too hot to pick up my arm or move my mouth.

Speaking of things we love about Israel, everyone's got their own thing which makes them feel warm and fuzzy about our homeland. For some, it's seeing the myriad sukkot all over the country. For others, it's the ability to find a minyan in every building and form of public transportation. Still others enjoy the "chag sameach" on the soda bottles. For me, though, what makes me warm and fuzzy inside is the ability to buy undies in Supersol. Not sure why, and the truth is, I haven't actually done it yet. But I love going shopping knowing that if need be, I can head over to aisle six and outfit my kids for the entire season. [Contented sigh.]

Speaking of shopping, I had an excellent Random Bag at Supersol today: dryer sheets, garlic, cottage cheese, and toothpaste.

Speaking of speaking of things we're speaking of, Donny has left us this week to return to the Land of the Free and the Home of Target. He left Saturday night and is returning next Monday. Ariella was very saddened by his departure and as a result, I have been conned into doing all sorts of fun and expensive things this week. BUt yuo should also now that my blogging mihgt have a a few errors. YOu see, I usaully read it over to donny befroe I post, and then catch all the misspellings adn grammatical erros. But he not hree to lstien to me read. So if hrete ar mroe misstakes tha ussual, plesae udnersantd. (Ohmigod did anyone else just get a flashback to "Flowers for Algernon?" Or was it just me?)

Also, though our Minister of Polls has been decidedly absent these past few months - apparently he's been "working" so he can "make money" so we can "afford to live." Whatever - I have a question that's been on my mind: Pomegranate seeds. Eat 'em or spit 'em? Leave your answer below.

Flu Fighters

Today, the children and I went to get vaccinated. It is still frighteningly hot outside - if you take your frozen chicken soup on a walk around the block, it'll be boiling by the time you get back. Grab a spoon and dig in! - they do warn us that winter is just around the corner, and with winter, comes the flu. Now, I am a big believer of medicine in all shapes and forms - shots, prescription painkillers, over-the-counter meds, cough syrups, antihistamines. You name it, it resides in our medicine drawer. Most problems, I have found, can be solved with a good dose of Children's Advil, may its name be blessed forever and ever. So I have always taken my kids to get flu shots. You don't even need an appointment here - just show up with that ubiquitous pinkas chisunim (vaccination booklets), take a number from one of those bakery-style number giver-outers, wait for your turn, and whamo, you're vaccinated. Last year I learned the trick of showing up a few minutes before 4:00 PM, when the vaccination doors open for their afternoon hours. We got there at 3:55 and there was only one person ahead of us. Whamo!

I had warned Ariella only a few minutes before that we were going, and Yaakov found out as we were waiting our turn. Neither of them was particularly thrilled. Ariella was angry (perhaps rightfully so), because I had told her that from now on, all her shots are given in school. I never qualified that statement with, "except for your flu shot." Bad Mommy.

We enter the room, and I volunteer to go first, to show the kids how it's done. I was very brave - no screaming or crying or kicking the nice nurse. Ariella decided she would go second.
"I am going to teach Yaakov how to be brave," she said confidently.
The nurse came near with a friendly smile.
"AHHHHHHHH! No no nononononononono!" she shrieked, jumping up and down, crossing her legs so he couldn't get to the shot spot, and generally performing a top-notch freak out performance.
"AHHHHHHHHHH!" shrieked Yaakov in response. (A good student, he learned well.)
"Yes, thanks for that, Ariella. It was a real help."

Needless (or needles?) to say, the children did both receive their vaccinations. Some of you, particularly me, will recall that last year, Donny came down with the flu. (It's in the archives somewhere, if you care to relive the experience; I, for one, do not.) It was a rough week, and Yaakov was sick then also. We suspect Yaakov also had a mild case of the flu, except because he had been vaccinated, he got away with a low fever for a few days, some lovely "nazelet" and coughing, and then it was done. No moaning on the couch, puking, or intense misery, like some others experienced. So in my opinion, the flu shot is well worth it. Hopefully Donny will get one as well, and the poor couch will be patient-free all winter. Amen. Yehi Ratzon.

And for those of you who are familiar with my parenting practices, you may have already guessed that this harrowing experience ended in a trip to the ice cream store. (The new one in Marlaz Center, for those of you Modi'inites. Well worth it, though they don't have a kiddie size scoop. No matter, my children polished off their cones in a matter of minutes, though a good third of Yaakov's chocolate was draped over his chin, shirt, and arm.)

(Speaking of the word "relive," - which we did before, keep up - here is a random thought: I was checking my email, and one of the lovely pieces of spam I receive is from Parents Magazine. The title of this email was, "Relive Your Baby's Diaper Rash!" I was so confused. Was it so great the first time? The redness, the crying, the all-around discomfort and ickiness? "Wow, honey, remember Josh's diaper rash? Wasn't that amazing? I just wish we could do it again! Let's not change his diaper for three days!" Then I realized it said, "relieve" not "relive." I either have to practice my English or get more sleep.)